


Guessing Games

by damnslippyplanet



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Copious Sass, Developing Relationship, F/M, Season/Series 01, Sleepovers, Will Graham Has A Nice Day - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-26
Updated: 2016-07-26
Packaged: 2018-07-27 00:09:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7595662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/damnslippyplanet/pseuds/damnslippyplanet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Maybe it’s investigative instinct, or maybe it’s just that teasing Will is fun.  Whatever it is, Beverly narrows her eyes at him and offers, “I like a challenge.  I get three guesses at what you’re looking at, and if I get it right, you come back to bed.”</p><p>Or: A little KatzAndDogs developing-relationship fluff for hesterbyrde's birthday.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Guessing Games

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hesterbyrde](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hesterbyrde/gifts).



> Sorry this didn't make it anywhere close to being done on your ACTUAL birthday, god forbid, but let's just declare birthday month, shall we? Happy birthday month, hesterbyrde. <3

The first time, Will hadn’t stayed. The dogs, he’d explained, which Bev had judged to be about half-true and half-excuse for covering up an urge to panic.  She’d sent him out into the night with a stern order not to freak out and overthink anything, and gone back to her rumpled bed with a yawn and a grin.

The second time he’d stayed, but either he slept through the night or his insomnia hadn’t woken Bev, who sleeps like the dead in her own apartment.  At any rate he’d been asleep come morning, when she’d treated him to an excellent breakfast, then warned him not to get used to it because her First Morning-After Breakfast is a special event.  For any future sleepovers, she’d warned Will, he’d be expected to learn to use her coffee machine himself.  He’d gone awkward and speechless again at that.

So it’s only the third time, in Will’s house in the middle of nowhere, that Bev startles awake at an ungodly hour.  It takes a moment to swim up to full consciousness and reconcile that the clicking sounds and the dim light are coming from across the room, while there’s a warm body snuggled up next to her in the bed.

The warm body stirs and makes a vague grumbly groaning sound that could not possibly come from a human throat, and it’s _awfully_ furry to be Will.  So she pries her eyes open enough to figure out just which of Will’s dogs is getting overly familiar.

“Hey, Winston.”  She props herself up on an elbow to see Will better, while rubbing Winston’s ears with the other.  “Hey, Will.”

Will turns out to be across the room, hunched over his laptop, with most of the other dogs arrayed around his feet.  His hair’s a disaster and he looks ragged, like maybe he hasn’t slept at all.

“Did I wake you up, or did Winston?  Sorry about that, either way.”

“I’m surprised you let him sleep in the bed.”

“I don’t, usually.  He snuck in when I was up getting a glass of water.  You looked like you liked having him there, so I let him stay.”

Bev switches from Winston’s ears to his belly, which apparently makes him roll over and wave his front legs in the air.  “So dignified, puppy,” she croons to him, before turning her attention back to Will.  “How do you keep law and order around here if you’re secretly such a soft touch?”

That gets her a small smile from Will, but at least it is one.  “He who controls the treat jar, controls the pack.  Also, we don’t have much precedent for overnight guests, so I can’t blame them for not knowing the rules.”

She wriggles the rest of the way into sitting upright, gentling Winston when he complains about the jostling, before broaching the real question.  (She’s still figuring Will out, but she’s definitely figured out he needs gentle handling about some things at least as much as Winston does, for all he’d deny it.)

“Okay, so I know why Winston’s here.  How come you’re over there?”

A quick glance at his laptop, a shrug that she’s pretty sure is fueled by embarrassment.  “Nothing, really.  Couldn’t sleep.”

Maybe it’s investigative instinct, maybe it’s just that teasing Will is fun, but she narrows her eyes at him and offers, “I like a challenge.  I get three guesses at what you’re looking at, and if I get it right, you come back to bed.”

He leans back in his chair and makes a vague gesture that might mean _go ahead_.

“Okay, first guess.  Porn.  In which case, this feels a little early for us to have the what-kind-of-porn-do-you-like discussion, but what the hell, bring the laptop too.”

She’s fairly sure it’s not - she refuses to believe the man exists who would sit across the room watching porn alone when he has Beverly Katz naked in his bed - but it gets her the smile she was after, and the little laugh, almost closer to a gasp, almost like it hurts Will to let it out.

“Christ, Beverly, I’m not watching _porn_ . And it is _definitely_ too soon for that conversation.  It is _always_ going to be too soon for that conversation.”

“Noted.  Okay.  Second guess…”  She tilts her head to the side and considers for a minute.  “You’re on the Ikea website ordering a second bed to go upstairs, so you don’t have to share me with Winston.”

“Wrong again. Not a terrible idea, though.”

He’s looking less woeful by the second, so she presses her advantage.  “I prefer a queen size, and something with a headboard on the off chance I need to tie you to it.  In case you decide to go shopping down the road.”

She’s mostly kidding -- mostly -- but the look on his face is priceless.  It’s possible he’s just swallowed his tongue.

“Breathe, Will.  Okay.  No porn, no bed shopping. I suppose it’s possible you’re doing something _not_ related to me.  How about… fishing.  You secretly run some kind of fishing blog and you’re either uploading your latest post about the joy of catching gross slimy things, or you’re overseeing some kind of flame war in your comments.”

“I do not run a _fishing blog._ ”  There’s a pause before: “...anymore,” he finishes, almost under his breath.

“Shit.”  She directs an exaggerated pout down at Winston, who could not possibly care less what Will is doing on his laptop as long as the belly rubs never stop.  “Some investigative genius I am.  I guess it’s just you and me over here, Winston.  All alone in this big, cold bed…”

She doesn’t have to look up to know the sounds of a laptop clicking shut, Will’s chair scraping across the floor, or his footsteps across the floor toward her.

“Laying it on a little thick, aren’t you?” Will asks, as he nudges Winston off the bed and takes his place, to the dog’s grumbled complaints and Bev’s laughter.

“Not my fault you keep this place freezing at night.”

“Is there any chance you’ll refrain from innuendo if I say that I keep it this way because I tend to run hot?”

He doesn’t sound like he’s particularly optimistic about the chances, and probably with good reason, but Bev decides to behave now that she’s gotten what she was after in the first place. 

“I’ll behave, but only because I’m tired and cold.  C’mere - if you can’t sleep, you may as well keep me warm.”

Several minutes pass in the process of warming Bev up.  It’s fairly aimless, neither of them up for a second round of anything energetic, but Will’s a good kisser and they fit together well, tangled limbs and gentle touch in the sensitive places they’re still learning on each other’s bodies.  It’s warm and good and Bev almost forgets that there’s still a mystery to be solved.

Almost.

Eventually, when they’re both drifting almost-asleep, she tries one more time: “Please tell me you weren’t writing reports for Jack at this hour.  You’ve gotta have a life outside work.”

“I have a life outside work.”

She’s pretty sure he doesn’t, but it’s not the right time to argue that.  She just pulls up the blanket a little further under her chin and nestles closer, ready to fall asleep for real this time, until:

“I was looking at the employee handbook.  Trying to figure out if you’re going to get in some kind of trouble if we keep doing...this.”

That’s weirdly sweet.  The darkness hides her smile but she suspects it turns up in her voice anyway when she answers.  “Okay, I wouldn’t have guessed that.  You win.  Let’s talk about it over breakfast, okay?  Probably I should tell Jack.  I’m the one he’s going to be mad at. You’ll be fine.”

“Mm.”  Will’s sounding vaguer by the second.  “We could just tell Zeller. It’ll be all over the building by lunch.”

“Go to sleep, Will. We can read the employee handbook together over pancakes.  It’ll be very romantic.”

No answer.  He’s gone.  She ponders briefly how awkward the “so, Jack, I’ve decided to become fuckbuddies with your pet profiler” conversation is going to be, decides it might be worth it for how much fun the “guess who I’m banging” conversation with Price and Zeller is going to be, and drifts to sleep with a smile that feels so dopey on her face she’s glad no one else is around and awake to see it.


End file.
